


Possession

by Jinniyah



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Dark, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinniyah/pseuds/Jinniyah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isildur is in possession of the One Ring, but that's not all he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

It was your fault. 

You were too lacking in understanding, proud beyond all reason.

"Cast it into the fire!"

That was what you said, ordering me, demanding that I do as you say.  Yet I was the one who cut the Ruling Ring from Sauron's hand, not you.  I was the one who had the right to bear the Ring - and the right to decide what to do with it.  But you never asked, never even considered that I might have an opinion worth hearing. 

"No." 

When I refused, you were unsure what to do.  Seeing you so confounded stirred a longing in me – one that I recognised almost as an old friend – and I found myself shamelessly lusting after you.  I stared, entranced, at the brightness of the Ring held between my fingers and pictured you naked in my arms, pinned under my body, made helpless with desire, and the image lit such a fire in me as could not be put out. 

It was your fault that matters between us went the way they did, for I swear I had no intention of hurting you.  You had been Gil-galad's lover for many years; it was not as if I sought anything so very different from you.  And you followed me fast enough from the slopes of Mount Doom, no doubt hoping you could intimidate me into changing my way of thinking.  My mind was never going to be swayed by you, but if I let you imagine that I might be cajoled, it was a small deceit.  Where was the harm if it brought you quicker to my bed?  I used both soft words and gentle voice to persuade you of the wisdom of our sharing counsel together that night.  I was perfectly reasonable in my arguments and you were reassured. 

You came to me alone, as I requested, and took food and drink with me.  And afterwards you talked long and earnestly at me about what I should do with the One Ring, about your dreams of peace and your hopes for the future.  And although I made polite answer, I listened not but watched the deepness of your eyes, the curve of your lips, and all the while desire rose in me like a dark flame. 

When the tension in your body eased at last, I saw the weariness spread through you – heavy and painful, a burden too long carried.  We had both fought a brutal battle, and I understood well enough the grief and tiredness that lay on you for it lay on me also.  In the close surrounds of my tent we could so easily have been two fellow soldiers reaching out together for some comfort.  I swear that was all I wanted.  Not to hurt you.  Just to make you mine, just to show you that Men were not to be so lightly dismissed.  It wasn't ever meant that you should not take equal pleasure from our joining.

But when I touched you, you looked at my hand like it was a serpent dripping poison.

It was your fault.  You spoiled it all in that moment, ruining what could have been beautiful.  For unexpected anger boiled up in me then like the sudden reek and fume of the Fire Mountain itself.  Blinded by it, I struck out so violently that you fell before me; you had not expected such strength and aggression from me any more than I had supposed such weakness in you. 

When I would have raised you up and carefully tended your hurt, you opposed me as vigorously as you could, given that you were still dazed, until I saw that I would have to subdue you lest you woke the entire camp.  In desperation, I knotted a silken scarf about your mouth and bound your arms behind your back before you could summon up enough strength to resist me properly.   

Why such coldness towards me, Elrond?  Did you think a mere Man not good enough to lie with you just because you chose long ago to belong to Elven kind? 

It was your fault that the lesson I taught you was made so hard and bitter. I was intent only on worshipping every inch of your body, yet you were intractable and most unwilling to learn what was expected of you.  When I stripped off your clothing you struggled against me, even though I took great care not to hurt you as I sliced away those garments that could not be removed whilst your arms remained bound.  Before long you were naked in my arms and helpless under my body even as I had imagined it, only you writhed not with desire but with revulsion and that aroused the heat of my anger; I became determined that you would submit to me whether you willed it or not. 

Thoughtless, arrogant Elf!  By enflaming my passions and then coldly rejecting me, you caused my lust and hatred to merge in twisted fire, burning like the bright writing etched upon the One Ring itself.  A little kindness and understanding would have won you fair treatment and much pleasure at my hands, but instead you chose the way of pain and wretchedness.  For it came suddenly into my mind that if you refused to listen to fair words and reason then you had given me the right to take the darker pleasure of violating you. 

And as you would not bring yourself to couple with me face to face in friendship, I turned you on your belly, roughly spread your legs, and forced myself inside your body. 

The harsh cry of pain that rose in your throat was stifled only in part by the scarf about your mouth, and your body shuddered in protest as it was breached.  Yet even through pain you continued to defy me.  When I jerked my fingers in your dark hair and twisted your face to mine, I read only anguished wrath in your eyes and I was maddened at the sight, possessed by lustful rage and renewed desire to hurt.  No mercy would I show you then.  The One Ring, hanging from a chain about my neck, stroked your naked skin with a bright caress each time I thrust into you and you flinched from its touch as if it burned you.

My lust was sated then, gone cold and dead, my anger burned to ashes inside you.  Gently now I undid the bonds around your arms and unstopped your mouth.  But you did not speak or even look at me.  Under a loose lock of black hair, there was a bruise on your pale forehead where I had struck you.  The corners of your mouth were chafed and sore, your arms and wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, and you moved slowly like an old man whose body pained him.  I felt no guilt: Elves heal quickly enough and you would take no permanent harm, save to your insufferable pride. 

Many of your garments were torn so I made to hand you your cloak.  Instead you snatched it from me, clothing your nakedness with a clumsy dignity.  When at last you deigned to meet my eyes, you looked on me with cold loathing but spoke not, as if the words for what you wished to say could not be found. 

I moved my hand to clasp the One Ring where it lay snug and warm against my chest, and when your eyes fixed on it in revulsion, I understood.  This precious thing, and my refusal to bow to what you regarded as the superior will of the Elves, would always come between us. 

Had you possessed less pride and more understanding, you and I might have won a world of passion and unending bliss.  We could have ruled Middle-earth together, with the One Ring to ensure that none could stand against us and spoil the peace and beauty we would create between us.  But instead we are divided from each other as completely as our kindreds are sundered upon death.

And the fault is yours.

THE END 


End file.
